The Shattered Rose (17 page)

Raoul wanted
to
smooth those creasing brows with his thumbs, but he kept his mind on the issue in hand. "So he survives because he is protected by the king?"

"Yes, though it's rumored that last year some men managed to seize him, intending to kill him. He escaped, unfortunately, and now he goes nowhere without heavy guard." She scowled at Raoul as if everything were his fault. "It is most unfortunate that those men made a mess of it."

"Very." He cut to the point. "If this Brother Forthred had succeeded in taking the child, would the Lady Jehanne have gone too?"

"How could she do otherwise, when no wet nurse was provided?"

Raoul nodded.
"Very
clever."

Her eyes widened. "You mean the intent was to seize Jehanne, not Donata?"

"I very much doubt an elderly prelate and a young lord have much interest in a six-week babe."

Her face relaxed at last, but into deep concern. "Sweet Savior, but this frightens me." Before he could even think about offering comfort, she frowned again—this time while staring at him. "You are very bloody, sir. In fact, not to put too fine a point on it, you stink of it. Is there fighting over this already?"

He looked down and realized he was well stained with gore. That's what tussling over severed heads did for a man. "There's no fighting yet, but you're right about my deplorable state. Perhaps if I take off my armor, it could be cleaned. I have no wish to offend your nose, Lady Aline."

"Much good that will do. Most of the gore is on your braies."

Strength and good intentions can take a lusty man only so far. "Then I suppose they must be cleaned too. Doubtless the blood has gone through to my skin, since my clothes are stuck to me in places. I fear, to be really worthy of your company, dear lady, I need a bath."

Seeing the trap too late, she stared at him like a startled bird. "Oh, no!" But then she turned bloodred herself. "Of course. Come. We have a room set aside for bathing here."

Intrigued, amused, and not too seriously aroused, Raoul followed her to another corner of the hall and through a door, to find a small room equipped with braziers and a wooden tub. Since it was summertime, the braziers were unlit, but a stone hearth in one corner radiated heat. Two large kettles hung over it, full of hot water ready for anyone wanting to bathe.

"An excellent arrangement," he said.

Aline had her head bowed over a chest from which she was taking the necessary cloths. Her lovely, ample rump drew his eye, therefore, especially as it was covered by rich red cloth. No nunlike clothes for Aline. He wondered why not.

It might be safer for everyone if she were marked as Christ's.

"There are advantages to these old halls," she said. "It’s easy to have small private rooms when building with wood." When she stood and turned, he saw she had regained most of her composure. "Of course, even with the palisade, it's not well suited to defense."

"And thus was taken by your Norman forbearers, I assume."

"Not at all." She pushed springy curls back from her round, heated cheeks. "My grandmother was left a widow by the battle at Hastings, and given in marriage to my grandfather. They were happy, to all accounts, and Burstock has never been fought over."

"A place of blessings." After a moment he said, "Perhaps, Lady Aline, you could summon people to help with my armor."

She flushed again, this time with embarrassment at her own neglect. It was as well, he thought, that flushing suited Aline. It was so easy to bring color to her cheeks.

Now, however, she pulled on efficiency like a cloak, opened the door, and called orders in a lusty voice.

In moments, two men arrived to strip off his mail and carry it away to be cleaned, then two others poured water from the huge kettles into the tub and took the empty vessels off to be filled.

Women hurried in with jugs of cool water, bags of herbs, and even a vial of oil.

Raoul eyed the oil with interest, but he let his better side take command.

"You are to be a nun, Lady Aline?"

"That is my intention."

"Then perhaps it is against your rule to assist a man at his bath."

She stared at him for a moment, temptation clear in her eyes, but then she shook her head. "No. There is nothing sinful in such a courtesy."

"But you have a sister-in-law here who is responsible for this household, do you not?"

She nodded. "Catherine. She's away at St. Radegund's convent on business."

Raoul decided he had done what he could to be virtuous. He certainly wasn't going to suggest Jehanne assist him at a time like this, and to demand lower aid would be to insult Aline, who was now rolling up her outer sleeves in a businesslike fashion.

Perhaps whatever qualms had troubled her were eased.

Perhaps, he thought with some affront, she had previously believed him so ill bred as to be indecent in this situation. He bent to unlace his braies, intent on showing her that he knew polite behavior.

In hindsight, he wished he hadn't accepted the willing Ella's invitation that first night at Heywood. He had not imagined, however, that there was a lady in Heywood whose opinion would concern him—especially a modest, excessively virtuous, lushly rounded almost-nun.

He suppressed a smile, wondering why Aline intrigued him so. Perhaps just because she was such a contradiction.

She was so brisk and practical that she reminded him of his mother, who could manage a large household to perfection and dabble in a hundred other matters at the same time. But Aline was also young and easily flustered around men. She had in truth offended against the laws of hospitality in refusing to assist him to bathe at Heywood.

He'd be flattered to think that he alone had this effect on her, but he'd heard it was not so. She was skittish with all men, especially young ones. It was strange in a girl with five brothers. People seemed to accept that it was her vocation to the holy life that made her prudish, but Raoul wasn't sure.

In truth, he found it hard to imagine Aline of Burstock as a nun. A dictatorial abbess, yes, ruling a community of both men and women, and large properties as well. But it was necessary to go through the process of learning to be a nun in order to end up an abbess.

He peeled off his linen leggings, using force where blood had stuck them to his skin.

She looked up from where she was testing the temperature of the water. "Are you injured, sir? I apologize. I should have asked."

He looked over to see that her genuine concern had banished embarrassment for the moment. "It's someone else's blood."

"Galeran's?" she asked with alarm.

"No. Someone we encountered on the way." He pulled off his shirt so he was dressed only in linen drawers, and glanced at her.

She had modestly turned her head and now moved away from the tub. Of course it wouldn't be polite for a lady in this situation to ogle a man's parts, but her avoidance of the sight of his body was extreme. She must have seen many male bodies in her time.

She was clearly ideally suited to be a nun, and he should accept that fact. It was as well that servants continued to come in and out, refilling the big kettles, building up the fire in the hearth, and filling the jugs of rinse water. He wouldn't even be tempted to be foolish.

He stripped off and sat down in the tub, finding it a little small for his length, but otherwise ideal. The water was exactly the right temperature, seasoned by the herb bag, and with a film of oil that would linger on his body.

Though she might avoid the task, the Lady Aline was clearly skilled.

She turned cautiously, first eyes, then head, then—once she was sure he was decently covered—her whole body, suddenly brisk again. She picked up the pot of soap and a cloth and moved to wash his back. He took another cloth, had her soap it, and washed his own legs, chest, and arms. In fact, as was usual between strangers, he washed the parts he could reach.

It was sweet to feel her rubbing his back, but he'd rather she were where he could see her.

"So you still intend to be a nun, Lady Aline."

"Of course."

"What rules must you obey during this time away from the convent?"

"None. I never took a novice's vows."

Interesting. "Why not?"

"I was about to when Galeran went away and I went to Heywood to be with Jehanne."

"Do you miss the cloister?"

"Of course." But her voice did not carry conviction.

His lips twitched. "I'm sure it must be hard to be meek and obedient." When she was silent, he added, "Especially if the orders are foolish. We encounter that, sometimes, in battle."

Her hand paused. "And yet you obey?"

"Generally. That is how armies work. And religious communities, I suppose. I wonder why you wish to be a nun."

"Why not?" Her hand picked up its task again. "It is a productive life."

"Some would say it is a sterile one."

"Only those who think of nothing but rutting." She stood and tossed the cloth on the floor. "Are you ready for rinsing yet?"

"In a moment." He made a business of cleaning his feet, pleased that she had moved where he could see her. Really, with her cheeks flushed, tendrils of her hair damp with steam, and her garments clinging to her generous curves, she was completely luscious. He felt his body respond, and decided he'd better stay in the water a bit longer to control himself.

A serving woman, bringing extra drying cloths, studied him with a sliding look and winked. Another Ella. She was tempting, but he ignored the invitation and leaned back against the rim of the tub. "What productive work do you hope to do in the nunnery, Lady Aline?"

"Prayer, of course," she said warily, "and care for the unfortunate." Then she added, "Also work with numbers. Accounts."

A light in her eye told him he'd found her true vocation. "A useful interest for a wife too, surely?"

Her lips curved in a cynical smile "What man would let his wife know all his business? Most certainly not a man of our class. I know only of merchant's wives who share fully in the trade."

"Perhaps you should marry a merchant, then." He was talking just to keep her where he could enjoy the sight of her, and also, perhaps, to teach her to be at ease with him.

"I would marry a merchant, and willingly, but Father would never permit that."

"So you wouldn't mind marriage?"

That set her blushing again. "Are you not ready for rinsing yet, Sir Raoul? The water must be getting cold."

"Another moment, if you please. It is pleasant to relax here. So, will you be returning to your convent soon, now that Galeran is back?"

Her eyes slid away. "As soon as matters are settled."

"But can you do anything to help settle them? I think not."

She looked back at him, eyes clear and unflustered. "Why are you here, then, Raoul de Jouray?"

"Just to be with a friend."

"And that is why I stay too."

"Ah." He stood, deliberately catching her unawares. "I am now ready to be rinsed."

Her eyes skittered wildly and her color danced around her face, but she brought him the clean water—eyes averted—so he could pour it over himself. Then she held out the warm drying cloth and he stepped out of the tub into it.

They were alone for the moment, and he couldn't resist. Once he had the cloth wrapped decently about himself, he ran a finger gently over her rosy, averted cheek. "Thank you."

She turned to look at him, her large eyes huge. "I have only done my duty. . . ."

"But you do it well. And I know it was against your inclination. I hope I did not upset you."

"No, of course not . . ."

"I'm glad." He wondered how long he could hold her spellbound. "I must seem large to you. Your father is not a large man."

Her gaze sank down to take in his broad chest—which meant that she had to look forward rather than up. Then she broke free, turning swiftly to begin picking up cloths. "A man is a man. Size doesn't mean much."

"Alas. And I am so proud of my generous attributes.. .."

She swiveled to stare at him. So, the little Aline was not naive.

"It is generally an advantage," he went on smoothly as he dried his legs, "for a fighting man to be big and strong."

He glanced up to see that she was staring at his body as a rabbit stares at the dog that will kill it. It made him suddenly ashamed of his teasing.

"If you would do me a kindness, Lady Aline, I have clothes on the pack horse that are a little cleaner than those I took off. . . ."

"Oh, of course." And she bounded out of the room just like a rabbit unexpectedly released from the hound's jaws.

Raoul dropped his modesty cloth and, hearing noises in the bailey, wandered over to the window as he pondered the encounter. He was a mischievous wretch to tease a lady so, especially one who wished to be a bride of Christ. But, in fact, he had some doubts about that. . . .

It sounded as if someone was arriving, but he couldn't see the bailey from here.

He wondered what the effect would be if he told Aline that his family had many mercantile interests. . . .

She dashed back in. "Forthred's here!"

Then she stared at his naked body.

He was some distance from any scrap of clothing, and he'd be damned if he was going to cover himself with his hand like a nervous boy.

She just stood there, mouth agape, studying him inch by inch as if he were a fascinating manuscript. He felt himself begin to respond.

He walked over, turned her around, and propelled her toward the door. "Then I need some clothes. Does Galeran know?"

"Father’s gone to tell him—them. What are we going to do?"

"If you don't get me some clothes, I'm going to walk out into the hall naked, which should at least cause a distraction."

He pushed her through the door, and with a wild giggle she ran off to find his pack.

* * * * *

Galeran listened to the full story of Jehanne’s encounter with Brother Forthred, then he and Jehanne set to considering various ways of handling the crisis. No action was particularly appealing to people who didn't want to mortally offend the Church.